


Years Apart

by justanexercise



Series: MCU Soul Mate stories [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, soul tattoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 13:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2583443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanexercise/pseuds/justanexercise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Black Widow is 54 years old when her soul mark appears. The Black Widow is 62 years old when she meets her soul mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Years Apart

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Part of the “Universe is Lazy” universe. Separate work since it got longer than I thought it would be.

 

The world says it’s a tragedy when one does not receive their soul mark. Natalia Romanova considers herself lucky to not have one, the other Red Room Black Widow trainees who have them, have their marks turned into a trigger phrase.

The Black Widow is 54 years old when her soul mark appears.

The Black Widow is 62 years old when she meets her soul mate.

-

Natalia stands on the outer ring of a park, blending in with her surroundings and keeping watch on her target. She pulls off her sunglasses, setting them atop her head. This park is full of adults and young children, screaming and prancing around in good fun. She grimaces at the sand kicked up near her when a boy grinds his swing set to a stop.

Sitting down on the raised cement sides of the enormous playground area, Natalia glances from the corner of her eye a child wandering towards her; a girl, no more than ten years old, with scrapped knees and slightly bruised knuckles, so she’s been in a fight recently. The lack of injuries on her face at least indicates the girl had been the victor. She sits down next to Natalia, hugging her knees and ignoring the raised eyebrow Natalia is giving her. Natalia relents and looks back to all the other people. A few minutes of silence and sound of paper scrapping against concrete rouses Natalia. The girl pushes a small origami flower towards her. The petals are crinkled, the folds mushy. Natalia stares at the gift and tilts her head, confused. The girl, with short cropped hair and the blue eyes similar to the color of the paper, shrugs and offers Natalia a weak smile. “ _You looked sad.”_

Natalia’s eyes widen in shock, a few seconds later, her gaze soften, the corners of her mouth turning up into a grin. She picks up the flower and says, “ _You’re very thoughtful Дорогая моя._ ”

“You’re very pretty,” the girl says, “especially when you smile.”

“So do you.”

The girl turns away at the compliment, she kicks the sand with her battered black converse shoes, the hint of a white sock peeking from the seams. “What’s dorogaya moya?” she asks, the Russian butchered with a horrible American accent.

“It means ‘my dear’.”

“Can you show me?”

Natalia grabs a spare stick and writes the phrase into the sand, she leans back and sees the girl’s eyes widen. The girl licks her lips and wrings her hands.

“I think…I think you said my mark,” the girl says in awe. She pushes up her shorts, revealing Natalia’s long cursive writing down her outer thigh. “Did you?”

Natalia reaches out to trace the mark but stops herself. She looks up, adults everywhere but no one paying the pair of them any attention.

“Did I say yours?” The girl is humming with excitement, her small body barely able to contain it.

Natalia chews her lip and stares at the complete awe and innocence of the child in front of her. She nods her head once.

The girl jumps up and grabs Natalia’s hands, tugging her up. She’s a lot stronger than she looks.

“I can’t wait to tell Aunt Peggy!”

Natalia freezes, her hand turning and taking the girl’s wrist. She kneels down to her eye-level. “Aunt Peggy?”

“Yea! She’s over there reading a book,” the girl points to a middle aged woman reading a thick novel on a bench.

Former SSR and SHIELD Agent Peggy Carter.

Natalia runs her hands up the girl’s arms and grips her shoulders, she memorizes that sweet face.

“Go get your Aunt, I’ll wait here,” Natalia says.

The girl nods enthusiastically and runs off.

By the time Peggy Carter and the girl come back, Natalia’s long gone.

-

It takes a full week before Natalia sneaks into Carter’s home. She needs to bypass the living room in order to get into the rooms; the windows are crudely rigged without electronics to alarms Natalia can’t silence from the outside of the house. Peggy Carter already knows she’s coming. It comes as no surprise when the light clicks on when Natalia enters and Carter is sitting on the sofa, a gun on the coffee table along with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses of ice.

Carter gestures to the chair in front of her and Natalia takes a seat. She pours them both a full glass of whiskey, sliding one to Natalia.

 “Are you here to kill me Black Widow?” Carter asks, sipping her drink.

“No.”

“But you were.”

“I changed my mind.”

“I see.” Carter raises an eyebrow. “Should I be thankful then? How long has it been, twenty years? You haven’t aged much or at all.”

Natalia picks up her glass and takes a long pull, the expensive stuff, it hardly burns her throat.

“She told me about you,” Carter says. “Wouldn’t stop talking about the pretty lady with red hair, said you looked so sad but she made you happy.”

Natalia looks away.

Carter continues, “She told me you had a pretty smile. She was happy she made you smile.” She narrows her eyes, “you will stay away from her.”

“I wasn’t –“

“Bollocks. You and I both know sooner or later you will seek her out and there is no chance I will let you taint her, not while I’m still breathing.”

Natalia clenches her fist.

“I am aware of what I am Carter.”

“Then you’re also aware that you can’t see her.”

“She’ll know.”

“There are ways to manipulate children.”

“And you’re going to do it?”

“You’ve given me no choice in the matter.”

“I didn’t do this.”

“No I suppose you didn’t. God has a wicked sense of humor doesn’t he?”

Natalia sets down her empty drink, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. “I don’t believe in God.”

“You wouldn’t now would you? Nevertheless, she will forget you.”

“How are you going to explain it to her? When she asks you about the marks? When she asks you why she hasn’t met her soul mate?”

“I’ll think of something by then.”

“She won’t forgive you for it.”

“I don’t expect to be forgiven, happiness comes at a cost.”

Natalia grits her teeth and glares at Cater. “You’re not the one paying it.”

“No, but I will bear the burden, just as you will.”

“Why should I? I can kill you and take her.”

“But you won’t, because you know that’s selfish. She’ll never be safe with you.”

“I can protect her.”

“She deserves more than you can give her.”

“I can give her everything.”

“No you can’t, not as Black Widow.”

Natalia clenches her jaw so hard her teeth creak. She reaches into her breast pocket and drops a sheet of paper with a name on the table. “You still have SHIELD agents at your disposal. Take care of the price on your head.”

“I’m sorry,” Carter says and worst of all, she does look sorry.

Natalia lingers and clenches her fist. “What’s her name?”

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

“I can find out.”

“But you didn’t and you won’t.”

Natalia leaves the same way she came in, through the front door.

-

Natalia Romanova lasts over 20 years freelancing before SHIELD catches up to her and offers her a job rather than a bullet between her eyes. She almost rejects the offer. But that little girl would be an adult now, so she accepts.

Natalia Romanova, now Natasha Romanoff, is fascinated by Commander Hill. She walks across the windows as she heads to debriefing with Coulson and Barton, seeing her first at the Triskelion, running three operations at what they dub the war room with such efficiency; even the Black Widow is impressed. No SHIELD agent casualties, a few requiring medical attention but nothing permanent.

She never gets a chance to see Hill again at the Triskelion, she’s been sent out with Barton to infiltrate a terrorist ring in Serbia. It takes a year to complete the operation, long even for her standards.

Coulson springs a mission on her three weeks later, deep shadow conditions. Hill is heading it, level 10 clearance with a few trusted agents on the need-to-know basis.

“Agent Hill is going to be your new handler for this,” he says.

Natasha takes the tablet from him, browsing through mission parameters. “Dirty SHIELD agents? How do you know I’m not one of them?”

“I don’t,” Coulson replies, crossing his arms. “But these incidents happened while you and Barton were in deep cover, you’re crossed off the most suspected list, for now.”

She stares at him, putting the tablet down.

Coulson sighs and leans across the table. “Agent Hill requested you.”

That does surprise Natasha. “I’ve never worked with Hill before.”

“I’ve brought that up. She said your file proves your merits.” Coulson stares her down. “Have you spoken with Agent Hill before?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Have you met your soul mate yet Agent Romanoff?”

Natasha doesn’t flinch but she narrows her eyes at him. “What are you trying to say Agent Coulson?”

“I’ve known Agent Hill for a long time Agent Romanoff, she doesn’t use gut feelings.”

“Agent Hill is using her head. If anyone is using their gut feeling, it’s you Agent Coulson. I’m the most qualified agent to be tasked to do this and Agent Hill came to that conclusion through my dossier.”

Coulson relents and gives her a curt nod. “Agent Hill will be in touch.”

-

Natasha pulls up the hood of her striped sweater and slips through the crowd in the streets of D.C. She flashes her gym membership for Nancy Roberts at the receptionist and goes straight to the women’s lockers. Locker A21. She smiles politely at the half clothed woman standing near her locker and waits for her to move away. She spins the lock, one turn clockwise, two turns anti-clockwise and clockwise again, 7-21-27 and behind the lock, the biometric scan of her index finger. Pulling out a duffel bag, Natasha drops it on the bench in front of her and goes back to her locker. Behind the hanging towel, she places her finger on the bottom corner and waits three seconds before sliding the panel away. Her body obscures any unwanted observers.

She pushes aside the three passports: Canada, United States and France, and the stacks of money with the three separate currencies. Another false bottom initiated by her fingerprint as well as retinal scanner. Natasha picks up a waterproof bag with a small black box a bit bigger than the palm of her hand out. Opening the box, Natasha stares at the origami flower, the blue fading away with age. She traces the tips of the petals, the paper is fraying. Snapping the box shut, Natasha puts everything back into its place.

Standing back up, Natasha opens her duffel bag and takes out her workout clothes and sneakers might as well get in a workout tonight.

-

Her bed is warm and comfortable and Natasha groans as she reaches to her night stand, grabbing her ringing and vibrating phone. Through muscle memory, she swipes the screen to answer the call. She holds it up to her ear, not gracing the caller with any sound.

She hears a soft sigh. “Agent Romanoff, this is Hill.”

“Agent Hill,” Natasha acknowledges her voice scratchier from sleep.

“Open your door.”

The doorbell chimes.

“Give me a minute.” She ends the call and sits up, cracking her neck. Natasha looks down at her phone, 7:12am. At least she’s gotten 5 hours of sleep, more than she would get on missions. Kicking the bedspread off her body, Natasha winces at the cold wooden floors. She really needs to buy those throw rugs soon. She grabs a hoodie from the chair and tugs it on and fluffs her hair out.

Natasha yawns, thumbing through her phone to her security feed, only Agent Hill, carrying what looks like a tray of drinks and a bag of food. She checks the peephole, same as her security cameras, and undoes the dead bolt at the top and bottom of the door before unlocking the door. Yanking it open, she crosses her arms and stares Maria down. “That better be coffee and doughnuts.”

Maria looks around Natasha’s apartment and sets down the goods onto the breakfast bar before sitting at the bar stool.

“Coffee?” Maria hands Natasha the paper cup. “Two red velvet glazed doughnuts and four very hard to get cronuts.”

Natasha rifles through the bag, putting the red velvet in between her teeth and pulling out the cronut, offering it to Maria.

“Thank you,” Maria says, taking it.

 “Coulson said you’d get in touch. I didn’t think he meant you were going to knock on my door in the morning.”

“It’s an urgent matter.”

Natasha licks the sugar from her fingers and grabs another treat, washing it down with bitter coffee. “Hmmm…”

“Have you read over the files Coulson gave you?”

“I took a glance. How are we going to go in? I can be assigned nearby but you would be harder to place without suspicion.”

“Fury and I are going to have a disagreement and I’ll be requesting a transfer.”

“Why not have him relocate you?” asks Natasha.

“We think the group would be less suspicious of me and would possibly try to recruit me if Fury and I don’t see eye to eye and I walked out on my own.”

“You think they’ll take that bait?”

“They’re trying to get a bigger foothold onto SHIELD, who better than Fury’s second, one he really pissed off.”

Natasha nods. “Is it just you and me on the field?”

“The less people who know the better.”

“Alright, when do we start?”

Maria checks her watch. “3 hours.”

-

Natasha stands off in the hallway behind loitering agents. She has to hand it to Maria, if she hadn’t known they were staging this argument, she would’ve believed them. They’re shouting at each other, enough for their muffled voices to carry through the glass. All the agents are captured by the argument; some a bit better at masking their curiosity, but it doesn’t matter; only she’s paying attention to them. There are a few smirks on the higher level agents, ones she’s noted before on having a problem with Maria’s authority.

It all comes to an end when Maria opens the door, her eyes furious and seemingly able to glare at every single person at the same time. “Get back to work,” she says coolly.

Activity resumes like the corridors of a high school for lunch, everyone making their way to or out of their desk, forgetting what they were actually doing before witnessing the disagreement. Natasha turns away from Maria and walks to the training rooms; she’ll give her observations later.

-

“I’m going to make a formal request SHIELD facilities be equipped with these toilets Hill,” Natasha says coming out of the bathroom.

“Enjoy them while you’re here,” Maria replies, not looking up from her tablet.

“I’ve been spoiled, I can’t use toilet paper anymore, it’s barbaric.”

“Only a month in and already pampered by technology?”

“I should put in a permanent request, anywhere in Japan as long as I get these toilets.”

“If only we knew before spending all that money trying to kill and capture you, Japanese toilets to win the Black Widow’s allegiance.”

Natasha looks over Maria’s shoulder; she’s sifting through suspected agents’ profiles, flagging them for later use. “Level 8?”

Maria cracks her neck and nods. “It’s worse than we thought. Higher up the chain we go, the more corrupt.”

“Seems like any other government agency.”

“We’d know who, these guys though, they’re SHIELD, I’ve been on missions with them, vetted some myself.” Maria sets her tablet down and clenches her fist.

“You’re taking this personally.”

“I trusted them.”

“I know.”

Shaking her head, Maria grabs two bottles of beer out of the fridge, passing one off to Natasha.

“Anyone try to recruit you?” Natasha asks, sipping the foam.

“Roberts is trying to turn me against Fury.”

“Is he succeeding?”

Maria side eyes her. “He believes he’s swaying me. Had some compelling arguments and hinted at a larger power operating within SHIELD, no official name he’s dropped though, might be relatively new, few years maybe.”

Fiddling with the label, Natasha stares at the stain on the coffee table in Maria’s temporary apartment. She chews her lips and says, “Or older.”

“Older?”

“If they can recruit a level 8 and higher, it must be a hell of an organization or person to take them from under Fury and your nose.”

“How old do you think?” Maria asks, concerned.

“Enough to be a problem.”

-

“Cut off one head—“

Natasha tosses a taser disc to his forehead, already ducking for cover before he drops to the ground. She groans and tosses a look to Maria. “If they say that one more time…” she threatens.

Maria jumps up, shooting two agents down and going back behind the car. “I’m with you there, fucking HYDRA!” She flinches at the bullets ricocheting next to her and scoots closer to Natasha. “I have one grenade left.”

“Let’s make it count,” Natasha says. “On my mark, throw it and run east. Three. Two. One. Mark!”

She pulls the pin and hurls it behind her as they zig zag across the streets, avoiding the gunfire pounding for them. A few seconds later, the grenade detonates, giving them a few moments of cover. Maria finds an idling car and gets in, signaling Natasha to do the same. Finding her cellphone, she puts it on speakerphone and drops it in the cup holder as she speeds past cars on the freeway.

“Call Director Fury. Engage security protocol 3-4-6-9.”

The phone AI responds, “Calling Fury, Nicholas J., Shadow conditions engaged.”

“What the hell is going on Agent Hill?” Fury barks. “I’ve got reports of you going rogue.”

“It’s HYDRA sir. Agent Romanoff and I have been compromised.”

“HYDRA? Nazi HYDRA? Hill have you –“

“They’ve been in SHIELD since its’ inception,” Maria continues. “Our security breach is beyond level 10.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Who else knows?”

“Right now, just the three of us. Sending you the list of confirmed HYDRA agents in SHIELD.”

“How did you get that?”

“They kept a record.”

Maria taps a few keys on her phone and sends him the files.

“Get back here in one piece, both of you. That’s a direct order.”

“Yes sir. And Nick? Be careful.”

“Don’t get all sappy on me Hill, Fury out.”

Natasha readjusts herself on the passenger seat and rolls her head towards Maria. “He’s an asshole.”

“He wouldn’t be Nick Fury if he wasn’t.”

“Where are we going?”

“Safe house on the outskirts of Okinawa.”

“How long is that going to take?” Natasha grounds out holding a hand to her shoulder.

“Maybe an hour,” Maria glances over. “You got shot?”

“They got lucky.”

Taking a hand off the steering wheel, Maria pulls the leather jacket open and sees more blood flowing down into Natasha’s striped hoodie. She frowns and grabs Natasha’s hand, putting it over the wound. “Pressure, now.”

“I know how this works,” Natasha mumbles, hissing in pain.

“You might need a blood transfusion.”

“No time, can’t go to a hospital.”

“We have the same blood type.”

“Guess I’ll take your word for it.”

Maria shakes her head, “You already know we do.”

“And how would I know that?”

“You’ve read my file.”

“Above my clearance.”

“You’re the great spy, Black Widow,” Maria says with a grin.

Natasha chuckles and looks out the window. “Not admitting to anything you can court martial me for.”

She presses harder against the wound, the blood squelching between her fingers. Her body shakes, tiny tremors at first, until even Maria can feel her body quaking in the other seat.

“Hey…” Maria starts to pull over to the side of the road.

“No, can’t stop,” Natasha grounds out.

Maria relents, going back into traffic but keeping a close eye on Natasha. “You haven’t lost enough blood to go into shock yet.”

“I’m not in shock,” Natasha protests, her teeth rattling. She presses harder against the bullet wound, the pain grounding her.

Maria’s already stopped the car and is leaning over Natasha, peeling back the clothes and ripping them open to bare her shoulder.

Trying to slap the hands away, Natasha fumbles and only keeps reaching for her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Maria says. “Your mark is still there, the bullet didn’t get it.”

Natasha cranes her neck but can’t see anything past blood from her angle.

Pulling at the sun visor, Maria points it to reflect Natasha’s shoulder. Only with the physical confirmation does Natasha relax.

-

Slow beeps greet Natasha as she wakes up. Heart rate monitor. The hazy and grogginess in her head, morphine. Opening her eyes, Natasha see’s Maria sitting in a chair next to her bed, a tablet in her lap with one arm in a sling, there’s also two butterfly enclosures on her hairline. She turns to the side and shuts off the morphine drip. Pushing the button to recline the bed, Natasha pulls at the hospital gown along her shoulder and touches the bandage on her gunshot wound. Before she can ask, Maria is already holding up a mirror to her which Natasha gratefully takes. She holds it up while Maria peels back the tape holding the bandage.

Maria hadn’t lied, her mark is still there.

 “Have you met him yet?” Maria asks, taking the mirror from her and putting it on the table.

“Who?”

“Your soul mate.”

“What makes you think it’s a male?”

“The handwriting,” Maria points at it, “either a child’s or an adult male. Higher probability of it being an adult hence, male.”

Natasha swallows, her throat already dry and scratchy. She doesn’t need to ask for water, Maria’s holding up a glass with a straw in it.

“Slowly,” Maria says when Natasha gulps it down.

“Was thirsty.”

“There’s nothing in your file about a soul mate,” Maria says. “Completely blank, not even a mention of where or what your mark is.”

“Stipulation of me coming to SHIELD.”

“I gathered that.”

“Are you going to put that on my file now that you know?”

Maria mulls this over. “No.”

“Why not?”

“There must be a damn good reason why you don’t want it on there.”

“I have a lot of secrets Hill.”

“We all do.”

“Especially you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Maria asks with a frown.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I haven’t seen your file. I looked into it, basics only.”

“Guess you weren’t looking at the right place Romanoff,” Maria teases.

“Excuse me Agent Hill, I’m an excellent spy as you’ve pointed out.”

“You only looked at the digital files then.”

Natasha’s brows wrinkle, she curses in Russian. “Hardcopy.”

“Yup.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Trust needs to go both ways and you won’t until you know everything about me.”

Natasha looks away from Maria, her hands brushing against the scratchy blanket.

Standing up, Maria offers Natasha a small smile and walks out the door, only stopping when Natasha speaks up.

“A girl,” she says.

“What?” Maria turns around.

Natasha looks straight at Maria. “My soul mate. She was a little girl.”

Maria nods once, waiting for Natasha to continue speaking, when she doesn’t, she closes the door behind her, leaving Natasha alone. Natasha runs her fingertips along her mark and closes her eyes. That little girl would be a woman now.

-

A week later, her shoulder mostly healed, Natasha sneaks her way into the records department, using the ventilation shaft Barton’s mentioned. While Fury is covertly cleaning house, HYDRA as well as SHIELD agents are too busy to keep track of an agent or two. She slides a stolen master keycard on the locks and readjusts the contact in her eye, Maria’s replica retinal contact. Natasha will give it back, maybe. The locks disengage and she slips in, searching through five file cabinets before she spots Maria’s file. A rather large file actually.

-Born: 14 April, 1982

-Place of birth: Chicago, Illionis, USA

-Rank: Commander

-Status: Alive

~~-Soul mate: REDACTED~~

~~-Soul mark: REDACTED~~

Natasha’s face scrunches into a frown. Lot of good her hardcopy file is if everything is just redacted. She flips through the file, history of Maria’s military service, mission logs, until she lands on personal interactions.

-Frequent visits to former Agent Margaret “Peggy” Carter in SHIELD sanctioned assisted living.

She flips back towards familial relations. Deceased mother and estranged father. No mention of Carter of any kind. Natasha closes Maria’s file and slips it back in. Instead of leaving, she goes through the rest of the cabinets until she finds Carter’s file. Not much digging needed until she finds out what she needs to know.

“Mid-stage Alzheimer’s,” Natasha reads.

-

“Are you here to kill me Black Widow?” Carter asks, mirroring their last conversation.

Natasha pulls down her hood and sits at the chair next to Carter’s bed. She shakes her head and says, “No.”

“That’s a relief, I’m afraid I don’t have the vitality to stop you if you were.”

“Of course you do, you’re Peggy Carter and there are many weapons available around you.”

Carter makes a show of looking around. “I see no weapons.”

“Glass of water next to the table, book under your pillow, not to mention the pillow itself.”

“Sharp as ever Widow. Me, not so much.” Carter takes a long look at her. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Natasha leans back in the chair. “Actually, I’ve changed a lot.”

“Not an assassin anymore?”

“Course I am,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “Will be til the day I die, but not freelance anymore.”

“Please tell me you don’t work for the CIA.”

“Worse, SHIELD.”

Carter stiffens and zeroes in on Natasha. “SHIELD.”

“Yes.”

“I thought there were standing orders to have you killed.”

“They made a different call.”

Carter sighs. “How long have you been in SHIELD?”

“Couple of years.”

“Is there a reason for this impromptu visit then? You’ve had years to come see me yet you come now.”

“I didn’t know you were here, not until today.”

“You didn’t want to know,” Carter says, folding her hands over her stomach. “But you already know don’t you?”

“Maria Hill.”

“I suppose it was only a matter of time, have you told her?”

“Not yet,” Natasha says. She crosses her arms over her chest. “I had to be sure.”

Carter nods along and closes her eyes.

“I expected you to tell me to stay away from her.”

“She’s grown into a fine young woman. She makes her own decisions.”

“Does she know she’s already met me?”

“No.”

“Would she be able to remember?”

Carter exhales deeply and blinks. She looks at Natasha and scoots further away. “You look just like her.” There is no recognition in Carter’s eyes.

Natasha smiles politely and clenches her fists. She alters her voice, much higher in pitch, sweeter. “Like who?”

“Someone I knew,” Carter says, closing her eyes.

-

Diving to the ground, Natasha shouts, “It’s me!”. The bullet narrowly misses her head, going through the couch into the wall.

“Damn it Romanoff!” Maria shouts, flipping on the light switch. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Didn’t think you were so trigger happy,” Natasha says, standing up.

“How did you get in? How do you even know this place?”

Natasha points to herself. “Spy.”

“Other than making me waste a bullet,” Maria says, holstering her gun, “what do you want?”

“We need to talk.”

Maria rolls her eyes and walks into her living room, eyeing her now broken furniture and wall. “We’ve established that, about what?”

“You should take a seat.”

“On what, my now useless couch?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, it’s just a tiny hole.”

“I liked that couch.”

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“And the hole in my wall?”

“I’m good with a putty knife.”

Maria sits on the end of her couch, away from the bullet hole. She nods to Natasha. “Fine, now what was so urgent you broke into my apartment, my private apartment by the way.”

Natasha stands a few feet in front of Maria, her arms by her side. She opens and closes her mouth several times, unable to form a sentence while Maria stares at her. From the crease on Maria’s brow, Natasha can see she’s starting to worry.

“What would you do if you found your soul mate?” Natasha asks.

“You broke in to ask me this?”

“Humor me.”

“I don’t know,” Maria says.

“You’ve never thought about it?”

A muscle in Maria’s jaw ticks. “I have.”

“But?”

Maria sighs and rubs her head. “We’re not talking about this.”

“It feels wrong to fantasize about it.”

Maria stiffens and glares at Natasha, but there’s a distinct question in them.

Natasha continues, seeing that her comment hit a nerve. “Everything you’ve come up with falls flat, because you know.”

“Know what?”

“You’ve met them but you can’t remember.”

Maria stands up and takes a step towards Natasha, her jaw clenched tight. “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing Romanoff but –“

“ _You’re very thoughtful Дорогая моя._ ”

She reels back.

Natasha softens her stance and lets her walls drop. She just looks at Maria. “Your mark is on your right thigh, on the outside.”

Maria stumbles over her feet backing up, she drops onto the coffee table, and thankfully it’s sturdy oak. “How did you get that information? SHIELD doesn’t –“

“You showed me,” Natasha says. She kneels in front of Maria, her hand hovering over Maria’s mark. “You were eight years old. You saw me at in a park and sat next to me. You were wearing these really old black converse shoes. You told me I looked sad and wanted to make me smile.” Natasha reaches into her jacket and pulls out the blue origami flower, still beautiful but aged and well preserved. She puts it on the table, next to Maria. “You gave me this.”

“That’s not possible,” Maria says. “You were in Russia, you were training to be the Black Widow. The Red Room recruited you at that time, you couldn’t –”

“My dossier isn’t complete, not everything is true. What do you know about the Black Widow codename?”

“Handed down from every recruit deemed worthy, the first instance of the Black Widow appeared in the early 1940s,” Maria recites her knowledge as her fingers brush against her blue flower. “You were born in 1984 and defected to SHIELD in the late 90s after the collapse of the USSR. You were freelance for years before Barton found you. You would’ve been 6 years old.”

“I lied to SHIELD.”

Maria gives her a look, explain and explain it fast.

“There’s only one Black Widow, there’s only ever been one,” Natasha says. “I was born in 1928.”

Maria’s eyebrows furrow, she studies Natasha’s face. “What did they do to you?”

“The super soldier serum was recreated, not to the potency of Erskine’s formula, but enough to give us a longer life span, better senses and faster recovery. I was the only survivor.”

“That’s…no, I would remember. I was only 8 but I sure as hell would remember something as important as meeting my soul mate, hell Aunt Peggy wouldn’t…Aunt Peggy…” Maria closes her eyes, realization setting in.

“Made you forget,” Natasha finishes for her. “For your own good.”

“She didn’t want me to know. And you let her.”

Natasha’s keeping in the tears threatening to spill over; she holds Maria’s hands in her own. “I’m not a good person Maria, I’ve never been one and never will be. But I would’ve gotten you killed or worse, be turned into someone like me.”

“How long have you known?” Maria asks, her fingers curling into Natasha’s hands.

“I wasn’t sure until I talked with Carter.”

“You went to see her?”

Natasha nods. “Today, after I read your file.”

Maria looks down at Natasha’s pleading face, but gives nothing away. Desperate, Natasha takes a pen and paper from the table and writes Maria’s mark, it’s identical in every way. “This, you’ve seen this, it’s on your thigh.”

“This is insane,” Maria says, taking the piece of paper. She drops it, disregarding it entirely as it flutters to the ground; instead she loosens Natasha’s hold on her hands and cups Natasha’s face in her palms. “You’re mine?”

“Yes. Yours.”

Maria pulls Natasha up and hugs her, burrowing her head in Natasha’s neck. “You have the worst timing. First you meet me when I was child and now we have HYDRA to crush.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Natasha says, smiling against the top of Maria’s head.

Pulling back, Maria smirks and her eyes hold mischief. “Well now that I’m legal…”

Natasha rolls her eyes and hits Maria on the shoulder, lightly. “You’re going to keep using the age thing aren’t you?”

“You’re old enough to be my grandma,” Maria says and immediately frowns. “Oh god, you don’t have kids do you?”

“No, okay. Stop thinking about it!”

“I can’t, you’re like 80.”

Natasha pulls further back and gestures up and down her body. “Does this look 80 to you?”

“Well no, but—“

“Hill, stop thinking.”

“This is going to be weird, damn it I can’t make fun of Sharon for dating Steve anymore.”

Natasha grabs Maria’s chin and smashes their lips together. There, maybe she’ll stop thinking now. It works spectacularly, if Maria’s hands on her butt are any indication.


End file.
